


No Sleep Till Bedtime

by veronamay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Open Relationships, Shower Sex, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-21
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There used to be a video interview somewhere on YouTube of J2 doing press at their first Paley Institute appearance in 2006, and they looked really tired and a bit loopy. As it turned out, they'd gone from set to airport to LA and only got to sleep on the plane (about three hours), and my brain went to a sleep-deprived sort of place. This was the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many glomps, smooches and avowals of my innocence go out to [](http://moonythestrals.livejournal.com/profile)[**moonythestrals**](http://moonythestrals.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lemmealone.livejournal.com/profile)[**lemmealone**](http://lemmealone.livejournal.com/) for cheerleading, prodding, hand-holding, toe-tapping and finger-drumming (as needed). I am totally owned by [](http://lydia-petze.livejournal.com/profile)[**lydia_petze**](http://lydia-petze.livejournal.com/) , who isn't even in the damned fandom ~~yet~~ and [](http://quiet000001.livejournal.com/profile)[**quiet000001**](http://quiet000001.livejournal.com/) , who does not _do_ Jensen RPS, for (a) not running away and (b) beta-reading duty that rocks my bright blue bedsocks. A special credit goes to [](http://irisbleu.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://irisbleu.livejournal.com/)**irisbleu** for on-the-spot translation.  
> 

Ten minutes after Tony called, "Cut!" for the last time, Jensen was stumbling up the stairs to his trailer, his breath misting in the cold air, trying to forget that it was oh-fuck-thirty and he hadn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours. He had roughly two hours to get home, pack a bag and get on a plane to LA. He had a day full of interviews and flesh-pressing and a three-hour Q&A session before he could even think about falling facedown on a bed somewhere, and he was just about ready to cry.

Fame and fortune, he thought, blinking his eyes wide. People would kill to be you, buddy. Suck it up.

It didn't help. His body demanded rest, or at least to be horizontal, unmoving, for more than a few minutes at a time. His mind was fuzzy now that he didn't have anything to concentrate on. Jensen tried to ignore it. He'd get some food and coffee on the way to the airport, maybe snooze during the flight, and he'd be fine. Just fine.

He was still standing just inside the door of the trailer five minutes later, staring blankly at the tiny kitchen counter, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Dude. What are you doing?"

Jared's voice was thick and slow as molasses. Turning around, Jensen blinked at him and yawned, absently noting that Jared looked better than anyone had a right to at this hour.

Coffee. He needed coffee. And about twelve hours in a bed, and whoa, that was a bad idea to be having just now, with Jared standing right behind him.

"Sorry," he said. "Just ... thinking." He frowned in confusion. "You waiting for me?"

"Eric's got us a ride home," Jared said. "Doesn't trust us to drive. Van's waitin'."

Jensen wheeled around to face him, and Jared flashed a grin. He smiled back out of reflex, nodding stupidly. Jared rolled his eyes and took hold of Dean's jacket, shaking him a little.

"Get changed," Jared said, like he was talking to a five year old. "Wash your face. Then you can go home and grab half an hour of shuteye before we have to leave."

"Gotta pack," Jensen said.

"You haven't—" Jared paused, took a breath, exhaled. "All right. I'll pack for you. Get my stuff on the way to the airport. Be quicker anyhow."

"Okay."

"Get changed, Jensen," Jared repeated. "And hurry up. If I'm gonna dig through your underwear drawer, I wanna have time to enjoy it."

That startled a laugh out of Jensen, when he thought he was too tired to even breathe. Jared's grin appeared again, delighted, then he nudged Jensen's shoulder and left him alone. Jensen heard him clatter down the stairs, and that reminded him he was meant to be moving.

He shucked off Dean's clothes as fast as he could, fumbling over buttons and zippers, trying not to freeze his ass off in the unheated trailer as he slid into his own stone-cold jeans and two sweaters, and a duffle coat over it all. The temperature should've helped wake him up, but it only made him slow and clumsy. It was another ten minutes before he came outside with the costume to return it to wardrobe, and by then his hands were so cold his nails were turning blue.

Jared took one look at him and shook his head, shoving Jensen toward the waiting van, taking hold of the clothes and walking them over to wardrobe himself. Jensen didn't argue, just got into the car, the heater blasting enough warmth to make him almost comatose. He leaned back against the seat and closed his burning eyes.

"Let's go." Jared slid in beside him, sounding gruffer by the minute. Jensen had no idea how the man was still operational. Jensen honestly didn't think he could stand up again; they'd have to carry him into his house. Jared had to be just as tired as he was, but he seemed to be weathering it better.

"S'all about stamina, my friend. Some of us got it, some don't," Jared said in his ear, and Jensen's eyes popped open. Had he said that aloud? He looked at Jared's face, pale and hollowed with fatigue. Jared crossed his eyes and poked out his tongue.

Jensen let out a giggle, then instantly slapped a hand over his mouth. Jared's eyes widened, and his slow grin spread over his whole face in the time it took for Jensen to repeat every cussword he'd ever heard.

"Did you just _giggle_ at me, Jensen? Like a girl? Like a twelve-year-old hearing her first dirty joke?"

Jensen didn't trust himself to speak. Laughter was leaking around the edges of his hand, so he pressed it harder to his mouth, muffling all sound. He knew if he let go, he'd end up shrieking, and Jared would have fodder to dine out on for _months_.

Jared poked him in the ribs, his face alight with devilry all the more dangerous for the weariness behind it. They were both running on fumes, and it should've made them cranky, but Jensen could feel a light, bubbling mania filling him up. It made him slightly crazy, jerking away from Jared's hand when usually he'd just slap at it, snorting through his fingers when Jared poked him again.

"You've lost it. You're a goner. You are in _so_ much trouble," Jared breathed. " _Jenny_."

Jensen flipped Jared off with his free hand. Jared grabbed the offending hand and bit the end of his middle finger, making Jensen squawk, still poking at him with the other. Jensen registered the warm wetness of Jared's mouth, felt a jolt of need that was gone before he could think to hide it, and then Jared's face changed as he registered how cold Jensen's skin was.

"Moron," he said conversationally. "Where the hell are your gloves?" He chafed Jensen's hand between his own, making it tingle with returning circulation, his body heat sinking into Jensen's skin. "I bet you lost 'em again. You need a keeper, Jen, I swear."

"Do not," Jensen said, dropping his other hand from his face and offering it for the same treatment. "I didn't lose 'em. I know exactly where they are."

He was lying; he didn't have a clue. And Jared knew it, from the look on his face. He made a 'yeah, sure' face but didn't pursue it, just rubbed Jensen's hands and wrists until they were warm again. Then he leaned over and tucked them into Jensen's armpits, momentarily close enough for Jensen to smell him. Makeup remover and sweat and faint traces of cologne, which struck Jensen as odd but he couldn't figure out why. Didn't stop him liking it. He leaned toward Jared's body for a moment, pulling back just before they made contact.

They didn't do that. He didn't do that. And Jared, who had Sandy, who was really nice, definitely didn't do that.

Jared didn't notice, just returned to his own side of the car and heaved a sigh. Jensen echoed it. The hilarity was gone, leaving him even more tired than before, if that were possible. He thought longingly of stretching out somewhere, maybe right here, putting his head in Jared's lap and just drifting....

Suck it up, he reminded himself. Do your job. It's just one day, for cryin' out loud.

His eyes closed again of their own accord. He could feel Jared beside him, his breathing shifting the air currents between them, and his own breaths fell into the same rhythm without thought. It was comforting. He reckoned he could pick Jared's breathing pattern out of a respiratory lineup if he had to.

Jensen snapped awake when the car stopped. It took a second to remember where he was, and then Jared was getting out, dragging Jensen behind him with a hand clenched in his sweaters, thanking the driver over his shoulder as they went up the stairs of his building. Jensen leaned against the wall, not even trying to help as Jared rummaged in his coat pockets for his keys and turned to open the door. Jensen rubbed his eyes, then hissed as his left contact lens shifted.

"Ow ow fucking _ow_!" He tried to keep his voice down, but it was hard with pain like fire stabbing him in the eye. Jared swung around to look, tilting his face up into the overhead security light.

"Got something under there," Jared said. "Can you get it out?"

Jensen gritted his teeth and wiped his face. He hated doing this. Carefully, he reached up and prised the lens away from his iris, wincing as he scraped against whatever was caught beneath it. Relief filled him as it came off and he could let the tears wash away the culprit. He wiped his face again and saw an eyelash curving innocently on one glistening fingertip.

Jared's hands closed over his face and tilted it up again.

"Got it?"

"Uh-huh." He batted at the hands. "Let go, I'm not done."

Jared paused for a moment, studying him, and Jensen felt himself start to blush at the intent look in Jared's eyes, the simple touch of his hands. A second later Jared let him go and he stumbled back against the wall. Trying to pass his reaction off as bad balance, he blinked a few times, making sure his eyes were clear, then thought, Fuck it. He took out the other lens and threw them both over the stair railing. Jared looked at him in surprise.

"Disposable," Jensen said.

"Whatever." Jared turned back to the door and opened it, ushering him through with a flourish. "Can you get up the stairs?"

Jensen snorted.

"I'm not _blind_ , dude. I just don't see all that well."

Jared stared at him for a full five seconds, unmoving. Then his face sort of collapsed in on itself, and he leaned back against the door and slid down, holding his stomach and exhaling silent whoops of laughter. Jensen looked down at him, wondering what he'd missed, while Jared just went on collapsing till he was full-length on the floor.

"What the fuck, Jared?" Jensen said finally. He could feel the hilarity creeping back up on him, though he had no clue what the joke was. Jared was laughing, and that was enough to set him off on an ordinary day. Right now it felt like he'd just downed three vodka-Red Bulls, only the jolt to his heart was different. His mouth curved in what he knew was a stupid-ass smile, but he couldn't help it. Jared just did that to people.

Jared caught his breath after a minute, though he couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face. Jensen reached for his hand and pulled him up, nearly falling over himself. Jared regained his balance and grabbed at him, and they swayed in a parody of drunkenness for a second until the world righted itself.

"Do I even want to know?" Jensen asked, pointing at the floor. Jared shook his head, still smiling, and shoved him toward the stairs.

"I meant, did you need a hand getting up the stairs _because you're so tired_ ," he said. "I know you can see, dude. God, you're so out of it."

"Yeah, well," Jensen muttered, but he couldn't think of a decent comeback. He trudged up the stairs with Jared following close behind, a hand on his back in case he overbalanced. He tried to resent that, but it felt nice, so he let it ride.

Jared shouldered past when they got to Jensen's floor, fishing out the keys and squinting at them in the dim hallway light. Jensen leaned against the wall again, mind spinning with exhaustion, eyes aching. His bed was right inside. It was a nice bed. King size, with two-fifty-thread-count sheets and a comforter thick enough to disappear into and never come out. Jensen slept with six pillows and that comforter every night, and right now the whole package was calling out to him. Softly. Seductively.

As soon as Jared got the door open, Jensen drifted inside and went straight to the bedroom, intent on toppling onto that bed and not moving until he absolutely had to.

A sharp smack on his rear end made him yelp.

"Don't even think about sleepin', boy." Jared pointed to the bathroom. "Get your ass in there. You stink."

"See, that's why I love you, Jared, you silver-tongued charmer. Marry me and take me away from all of this." Jensen spread his arms in mock appeal even though they felt like lead weights, because the day he was too tired to snipe at Jared he'd be officially dead.

Jared did the eyeroll thing again, but he was smiling, so Jensen figured that was a point for his side in their ongoing game of verbal tennis and therefore worth the effort. He headed for the bathroom without argument, because really, the idea of a ton of hot water pouring over his head sounded too good to pass up.

"I'm gonna book a cab. Don't use all the hot water!" Jared yelled after him.

Jensen stripped off his clothes as he went, leaving them where they fell. The shower beckoned with its gleaming silver head, promising superior water pressure and five massage settings for a truly relaxing shower, or your money back. He loved this shower.

Jensen stopped and squinted at himself in the mirror. He was rhapsodising about his _shower_. That was bad. On the other hand, he could still use words like 'rhapsodise' in a meaningful context, so things could be worse. He shrugged at his reflection and turned the water on.

Bliss. Pure and utter bliss, and he didn't care if it was stupid, he _did_ love this shower, he'd defend it with his life if he had to. Body parts he'd thought extinct were experiencing divine resurrection. He looked down at his cock, still more or less dead to the world, and grinned at it. Not _quite_ Jesus, then.

"But close," he said aloud. Now, if Jared were in here with him....

Jared hammered on the door, making him jump guiltily.

"You still conscious?"

"Bite me," he called out.

"Not till you're clean, bitch," Jared shot back, and Jensen choked. He could feel Jared's manic grin right through the door, damn it. Maybe he wasn't the only one cracking up, here.

"Promises, promises," he sang out, feeling daring, and reached for the shampoo.

He was shutting off the water when Jared came in. Jensen turned around, trying for casual, because there was no reason not to be. Even though Jared had never walked in on him before. Even though Jensen was cautious about personal space when they were alone. He froze for a second as Jared's eyes met his, suddenly wide-awake and antsy as hell. Something in Jared's face looked a little ... off.

Towel, he thought. Diversion. Go.

"You done with the packing already, Jeeves?" he managed, wrenching his eyes away. "I hope you remembered to shine my boots."

Jared kept staring as Jensen reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Jensen could feel his skin prickling from the intensity of that look. He played dumb, snapping his fingers at Jared's eye level, not quite meeting his gaze.

"Earth to Jared," he said. "Houston, do we have a problem?"

He thought later, that had they been less tired and more insulated against each other, less comfortable, more wary, less vulnerable, more ... something ... it would never have happened. But the way things were, the way _they_ were, combined with the toll the day (and weeks, and months) had taken ...

"Yeah," Jared said. "Yeah, I've got a problem."

Jensen watched intention flare in Jared's eyes, watched him almost glide across the floor. Electricity crackled along his nerves, waking him up all the way, and he revised his judgement about divine powers. Jesus apparently _was_ in the building, laying on hands, granting dearest wishes wherever he--

Jared stopped right in front of him, close enough that if either of them took a deep breath they'd be touching. He pinned Jensen in place with just his eyes, one hand floating up to shoulder height, hovering there.

"You're my fucking problem," Jared whispered. "You're the biggest problem I've ever met. But I've tried everything, and I can't fix this. I don't—" He swallowed. "I don't _want_ to."

Jensen opened his mouth to say something. Anything. Then Jared touched him, and he stopped thinking and just _went_. His world became a mass of

_hands everywhere_  


_sliding_

_heat_

_solidstrongclose_

sensations that centred on Jared's body and Jared's hands pulling him in until they were so tightly melded he could feel Jared's shirt buttons imprinting on his skin.

They stood like that, breathing in the heavy wet air. Jensen tried to look away and couldn't. Jared had his arms around Jensen's back, but his eyes were doing all the holding that counted. Those eyes were speaking to him, promising things Jensen didn't (ever, ever) think about. Those eyes were slitted, and glittering, and _hungry_.

Jensen got hard. Instantly. Achingly.

" _Finally_ ," Jared growled.

One hand went up into Jensen's hair, the other tore away the towel, and his mouth came down, claiming him with a stab of tongue that went right to Jensen's cock. He clutched at Jared's shirt, pressing forward, needing more ('finally' was right, god _damn_ ), then it seeped into his mind that he shouldn't go forward quite so much, but by then it was too late. They fell, Jared's footing gone on the slippery tiles, crashing to the ground.

"Motherfucking son of a _bitch_!" Jared yelled as they landed, flat on his back with Jensen's full weight on top of him. Jensen tried to roll off, but Jared growled, "Where the fuck you goin'?" and yanked him back, dragging him up and kissing him like it was going out of fashion, like kissing Jensen was winning the lottery. Jensen melted onto his chest and opened up for it, letting Jared's tongue do whatever it liked, and fucked if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever done in his life. And Jensen had done some pretty kinky shit.

"Jared," he groaned, yanking his mouth away for a second to breathe, pulling at Jared's shirt with inarticulate desperation. Jared pushed him off and sat up, ripping the shirt over his head, dragging Jensen onto his lap the second his arms were free again. Jensen straddled him, hips canting at a familiar angle, only Jared wasn't like any horse he'd ever ridden. He pressed close, one of Jared's hands spanning his lower back, the other gripping his neck and directing his mouth the way Jared wanted it. Jensen had no intention of admitting how hot that was, but he reacted just the same, quiet little whimpers and grunts escaping his throat as he ground their hips together. Jared's jeans were scratching him, and he scrabbled at button and zipper until Jared's cock was bared and snugged up against his own. Jensen freed his mouth for a bare instant to wet his palm, Jared following suit an instant later, and their hands collided as they both reached for their cocks at the same time.

"Let me..." Jared whispered, eyes heavy-lidded, his hand wrapping around both of them, and Jensen shuddered at the touch. Jared grinned, a bare curve of his lips, his breath puffing over Jensen's face, and started to stroke.

Just like that, Jensen came.

" _Jesus_ ," he gasped, his hips jerking, slamming his mouth over Jared's and sucking his tongue in like it was a lollipop. Jared let out a sound caught between a grunt and a whine, pistoning his hips, his free hand sliding down to Jensen's ass and slipping, circling, pushing one fingertip inside as his own climax caught up with him. Jensen's head dropped back and he flexed his thighs, riding out the aftershocks, sliding deliberately over Jared's cock as Jared rode it out. Jared's hands tightened enough to bruise, as if Jensen were going somewhere. As if he'd ever be able to move away from Jared again.

They slumped to the floor in a tangle of sweat-slick limbs. Jensen was dizzy; Christ, but 'tired' didn't begin to describe him now. He felt Jared feeling clumsily around for his arm and managed to lift it, slinging it up and over his body, and let himself be manhandled until he was lying more or less on Jared's chest.

"Unh," Jared said. He pulled Jensen up for a kiss, slow and deep, a kiss that spoke of fucking to be done just as soon as they were able to get themselves, and their cocks, back up. Jensen tried to convey his willingness – he was good with that, he was just _fine_ with that - but he wasn't moving anywhere. Fuck flying to LA, fuck the junket – he was done. They'd have to reanimate his corpse to give interviews, let alone do any serious fucking. And he didn't think Jared was into necrophilia.

He lay across Jared's body, breathing slow lungfuls of air that smelled of sweat and Jared and himself. They really ought to get up. Jared needed to shower, and he probably ought to rinse off again. But. He kind of liked lying all over Jared. It was comfortable. Homey, even, except for the part where it was incredibly hot. He could get used to this. Jared was quiet, just holding him. His breathing lulled Jensen into a pleasant half-doze.

"We gotta move, man," Jared said at last. "It's gotta be nearly six by now. Car'll be here soon."

Jensen shoved his face into Jared's neck. "Don't care," he muttered. "Tired."

Jared laughed. Jensen felt the impact all the way to his knees, made him wish he wasn't half-dead. All sorts of ideas were occurring, but he had the energy for exactly none of them, and now he really was so close to crying it wasn't funny.

"Come on, Jen," Jared said, nudging him. "We need to shower, and get some coffee or somethin'. You can sleep on the plane."

Jensen groaned as Jared rolled him off to lie on the floor. Jared stood up – where the _hell_ did he find the energy for that, Jensen swore he wasn't human – and looked down at him, a familiar grin creeping over his face, only this time without the annoying edge that made Jensen's brotherly instincts rise up and demand that he kick Jared's ass in some way. Jared chuckled again and reached down for him, pulling Jensen up until he was standing, leaning into his warmth. Jared reached into the shower and turned the water back on.

"Showered already," Jensen mumbled. He nuzzled into Jared's shoulder.

"I haven't," Jared said. "So shut up and get in." He didn't wait for an answer, just pushed Jensen in, shucked his jeans and followed, snaking an arm around his waist to keep him steady. Jensen was content to stand unmoving under the warm flow of water, Jared moving him around to rinse him clean and then propping him against the tiled wall while he quickly scrubbed shampoo through his hair and soaped his own body.

Jensen tried to keep his eyes open, wanting to see Jared like this for once, for real, water sliding over all the places he wanted to touch. Jared slanted a look at him and smiled, fatigue clear in his face but not, somehow, sinking in. Jensen pondered that for a minute. It was like Jared was beyond ordinary humans when it came to stamina. He got tired, sure, or reached his limit when they did take after take of being slammed into walls or floors or whatever, but it never seemed to make an impact. Jensen felt like he'd been pushed through a hand-wringer, even before ... this ... happened. Jared looked like he'd played a couple extra sets of tennis. Jensen thought that was unfair, and it did occur to him to say something about it, but then Jared stopped the water and stood in front of him, dripping wet and gorgeous, and all intelligent thought left Jensen's head. For good, probably. He didn't care.

"Dude." Jared's amused tone made him look up, realising he'd been staring avidly at the man like he was on the menu. "I like the way you think – believe me, I do – but we don't have time."

"Bet we could," Jensen said, swaying toward him. "Bet I could suck you off in less than five minutes."

He listened to himself talking and wondered at his daring, even as he started to slide to the floor. His mouth was already watering in anticipation, and hey, wasn't that a kick in the teeth all by itself, because he'd never actively wanted to give head before. He'd done it, sure, as payback or whatever, but this? This whole gotta-have-that-cock-nownownow thing? That was new. But he wasn't going to stop to analyse it, because Jared was right, they didn't have time. He'd have to be damn quick, but that was all right. Jensen could do quick. Quick and dirty. This whole thing was like a dream anyway, and if he didn't know better he'd say he'd passed out from exhaustion and was having the world's best-ever sex fantasy, tailor-made for him. Fuck reality, he decided. He was gonna enjoy this, and he was going to do whatever it took to make sure Jared remembered it.

"Jensen, wait ..." Jared grabbed his arms. "Come on, man. I appreciate the thought and all, but—"

Jensen crowded in close, sliding his hands up and down Jared's chest. "I want to," he breathed against Jared's mouth. "Let me, Jared. You'll like it. I'm good. I'll make it good."

He trailed his hands southward again, taking Jared's cock in hand and fondling it into full hardness, bending his head to lick and suck his way across that acre-wide chest. Jared breathed in sharply and pressed against him, rolling his hips in a way that Jensen really wanted to explore. In depth. Later, when he could actually get his own cock interested again.

"Fuck it," Jared groaned, tearing himself away. "Okay. A'right. Come on – bedroom. I ain't fucking on the floor again." He grabbed Jensen's wrist and snagged a fresh towel on their way out of the bathroom, and they stumbled the ten feet down the hall to Jensen's bedroom. Jared threw the towel on the bed and fell down onto it, pulling Jensen up for another deep, tonguefucking kiss that made his head spin – but not enough to forget which way was down.

Pulling away from the kiss, Jensen licked his lips. The dream-haze was fading away under an onslaught of raw, rough desire in his gut. This was real, prime-time, centre-ring action. No fantasy could ever be this good.

"Been wantin' you since day _one_ , Jared. Just so you know."

Jared's eyes burned, and he reached out. Jensen slid back, dropped his head and licked a long stripe up Jared's cock.

"Holymotherfucking _christ_."

Jensen grinned and did it again. And again. And again. When he felt Jared's hands slide into his hair and grip, he nuzzled his cheek against one lean hip, took a breath and took it in his mouth.

He was good at this. He'd learned it like any other skill, took pride in doing it well, and right now he was fiercely glad of every lesson he'd ever had, every guy he'd ever blown in a seedy Dallas flophouse, every friend he'd gotten drunk with and never seen again. Because Jared was _writhing_ under him, flexing and arching and trying to get deeper into Jensen's mouth, only there was nowhere for him to go because Jensen had taken him all the way down and was doing his goddamned best to make sure Jared never recovered, and it was infuckingcredible. He rubbed his tongue along the vein underneath, swallowed against the head in his throat, allowed the barest scraping of teeth along the shaft – and then, rhythmically, he started to suck.

Jared whimpered, and his hands made fists in Jensen's hair. A litany of curses and endearments fell from his mouth, and he spread his legs wide, giving Jensen access to squeeze his balls and stroke across his perineum, hitching his hips up into Jensen's mouth on every panting exhale. Jensen leaned one arm over Jared's belly to keep his hips on the bed, and slid the other hand up over his body, searching blindly for Jared's mouth. Jared grabbed his fingers and thrust them between his lips, sucking as hard as Jensen was below. Jensen had a moment to imagine a sixty-nine (they'd do that later, that was not negotiable) and then got back with the program, pulling his fingers away and going straight for the jackpot. Jared keened and jerked when Jensen slid two fingers into him and flexed them in time with his sucking, and a second later Jensen felt the convulsions start in his cock as he came. He chose not to pull off, swallowing and telling himself they didn't have time for another shower, ignoring the knowledge that he was doing this for other reasons altogether. He let Jared's cock slide out of his mouth, gently, and stroked his thighs until the trembling stopped.

He cleared his throat and hauled himself up so he could see Jared's face. He looked – _debauched_ was the only word for it, damp hair spiking everywhere, kiss-swollen lips, heavy-lidded eyes - and Jensen couldn't believe it but his cock was actually trying to wake up and pay attention. He gave himself more bonus points.

"Four minutes, fifty-seven seconds," he said against Jared's mouth.

Jared laughed, then groaned when he tried to sit up and flopped back on the bed.

"God," he said. "I'm dead. You killed me. I can't move."

Jensen, perversely, had now hit that weird second-wind he sometimes got when he'd been awake for too long. He sat across Jared's thighs and rested his hands on his chest.

"Gotta get up, dude," he said. "It's gone six."

That got Jared's attention. He angled his head and checked the bedside clock, rubbing his face in dismay as he realised Jensen was right.

"I booked the cab for six-fifteen. Man," he mumbled from behind his hands, "I am never letting you do that again."

"Never?" Jensen said, leaning down and gently biting a nipple. Jared jerked under him.

"Okay, maybe not never," he said. He let his hands fall and looked at Jensen. "Since day one? Really?"

Jensen shrugged, but didn't deny it. Jared looked at him for a moment, kind of serious, then grinned slowly.

"Guess that makes two of us."

Wow. Just ... wow. Jensen wasn't sure what to do with that. It was _good_ , he liked hearing it, but--

"What about Sandy?" he asked cautiously. He didn't want to spoil the mood, but he didn't want to hide any more than he had to, either.

"Sandy's got two other boyfriends to worry about," Jared said. He tilted his head. "Okay?"

Jensen raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. He wasn't going to bitch about the death of the apple-pie image in his mind if it got him what he wanted.

"Okay," was all he said. Jared pulled him in for a quick kiss.

"A'right then. Up," and Jensen rolled off him and stood, stretching, feeling relaxed and warm and still tired, but better. Like he'd absorbed some of Jared's invisible shield against the world, maybe. He wondered if repeat applications of Jared would have a cumulative effect.

Cumulative. Heh. He was still functional after all.

They were ready and waiting for the cab when it pulled up, actually on time for once. Jared directed the driver to his place, by now sounding like his vocal cords had been run through a shredder. Jensen recalled the husky sounds he'd made when he came, and couldn't feel guilty. He'd loved it. He'd do it again the minute he had the chance; that, and anything else Jared was up for.

Jensen thought he was maybe kind of a slut where Jared was concerned.

Jared glanced over and caught his eye in the middle of that thought. Jensen swallowed at the banked-down lust smouldering in Jared's face, just for the briefest moment. Jesus, he thought blankly, shuddering. Trying to cover, he settled his glasses on his nose and stared out the window like everything was normal. Like Jared wasn't a king-sized tower of fiery want sitting just two feet away. Like that didn't make him hornier than a stag in rut.

The minute the car pulled up at his place Jared was out the door and running up the stairs like he was afraid Jensen would grab him and fuck him half to death in front of God and everybody.

Smart man, Jared. Nobody ever gave him enough credit.

Jensen's phone chirped in his pocket. He dug it out and flipped it open.

"Yeah?"

"You want to make the front page of every tacky-ass tabloid from here to Cuba?" Jared growled in his ear. "Don't look at me like that in public, man. You nearly got yourself fucked in the backseat of a Canadian cab."

"Unh," Jensen stammered, his mind a total blank. He couldn't believe he found that image hot. He shot a glance at the driver and said, "I'm ... sorry?"

"Liar." Jared huffed a laugh, raising a shiver down Jensen's back. "Okay. I'm coming out in a minute. God, I want to fuck you."

He hung up while Jensen was still choking.

A minute later he sauntered out to the car, throwing a small carryon in the trunk and sliding into the back seat like he hadn't just made Jensen nearly come in his jeans.

"Let's go," he told the driver, and slid down until his knees pressed on either side of the front passenger seat. Jensen darted a look at him and found his eyes pulled down to Jared's crotch, where he saw that yes indeed, Jared did want to fuck him. Jared caught him looking and shot him a death glare, but it was at least half frustration, so Jensen ignored it. He took pity on him and looked away – but he could feel a small grin forming. Jared would probably make him pay for that later.

They were silent on the way to the airport, which soothed Jensen's jumped-up nerves. He could feel weariness plucking at the edges of his mind, but he wanted to stay awake now. He'd be better off surviving the coming day on no sleep than on a couple of hours snatched on the plane; he'd be too worried about staying awake to misbehave. Much. These quiet minutes were good; they gave him time to think about Jared, and what they were doing, and what they were probably gonna do again as soon as they had time. The important thing was, to Jensen's mind, that they were still _them_. Still friends, at least so far. Jensen had fucked his friends before, and there'd always been awkwardness afterward, except maybe with Chris who never let shit like that bother him. Jensen was relieved that Jared didn't seem to feel anything had changed out of bed. He wanted exactly this, what they had going right now: friends, and fucking, and caring underneath.

He looked over at Jared again and found Jared leaning back, relaxed and easy. Jared met his gaze, smiling, and nudged Jensen with his knee. Jensen grinned and nudged back, and that was that. They were okay. They were gonna be fine.

Jared's eyes dropped to his mouth. Jensen wet his lips reflexively, watching Jared stifle a sound and look away. Okay, so that was going to take some getting used to. He had a feeling they'd manage. Thank God they had a three-hour flight to get themselves under control.

They got to the airport with twenty minutes to spare. They had no luggage to check in – this was an overnight deal, then back to the grind on Monday – so they headed for the express check-in counter. A pleasant surprise awaited them there.

"Executive class?" Jared's face lit up. "Awesome."

Jensen translated "executive" into "first" – Canadians were _weird_ \- and sent a silent thank-you to Eric for taking pity on them. Neither of them was built for coach. The flight actually started to sound appealing.

"He's only doing this to soften us up, you know," he said to Jared as they went hunting for coffee. "He's lulling us into a false sense of security, and then—wham! Teen mag reporters coming at us from all sides."

"That's okay." Jared shrugged. "They'll go for you first. I'll be able to make a run for it."

Jensen punched his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Selfish ass."

"You'd do the same."

"I would not." He stopped and thought about it. "... Okay, maybe I would."

"See?" Jared pouted at him, rubbing his shoulder. "That hurt, man."

"Sissy. Want me to kiss it better?"

Jensen stopped the second the words came out of his mouth. Banter took a backseat as Jared's eyes roved over him from head to foot in about one-point-six seconds, scorching hot.

"Yeah," he murmured. "That'd be ... good."

Jensen gulped audibly, fighting not to reach out and touch. "Hold that thought," he managed.

"For three hours?" Jared shook his head. "I'll never make it." He looked around them, tilting his head toward a nearby men's room.

"Jared. We are _not_ gonna fuck in an airport rest room," Jensen said, trying to sound firm. Jared just looked at him, a single searing glance, and Jensen spun round blindly and started walking toward the rest room. He could already see it in his head: Jared sitting in a stall, Jensen riding his lap, his jeans around his knees constricting his movements, kissing and muffling each other's noises with their hands—

_"Air Canada flight 550 to Los Angeles is now boarding at gate E58. Air Canada Vol 550 à Los Angeles est maintenant en embarquement à porte E58."_

"Fuck!"

Jared's curse, low and frustrated, reverberated through Jensen's bones. _Man,_ but their timing _sucked_.

"Come on," he said, not trying to hide his disappointment. "Eric and David'll have our asses if we miss this plane."

"Yeah." Jared sighed as they turned and went toward the gate, shoulders barely touching. A second later he clucked his tongue in irritation. "Hell, Jen, we didn't even get any coffee."

Jensen was almost positive that remark wasn't as funny as it sounded. He put it down to sleep deprivation, the way he grabbed his ribs with one hand and Jared's arm with the other to keep from falling face-down on the floor, he was laughing so hard. Here they were, cross-eyed with lust and desperate to fuck, and Jared was bitching because they couldn't buy _coffee_?

"Jensen," Jared hissed at him. "Dude, get a grip. God, I am never letting you go without sleep again." He hauled Jensen close and half-dragged, half-walked him along the concourse, looking for their departure gate. "E58, where the fuck – aha!"

Jensen's laughter trailed off into hiccupping giggles, and a minute later he was able to take a full breath without a tremor, capable of standing on his own two feet again. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy being manhandled, then pulled away with a sigh. Jared shot him a glance and winked, though his mouth twisted briefly as they stopped touching.

"Later," Jensen promised him.

"Bet your ass."

"I am."

Jared inhaled roughly and shouldered past him through the gate, flashing his boarding pass and striding away in long, angry-looking strides. Jensen took a moment to admire his ass before he followed. By the time he caught up (feeling like Pepe Le Pew chasing that kitty-cat, and good God where was his brain finding this stuff?), Jared appeared to have calmed down. Again. Jensen wasn't sure he could do that; half of him was still in that rest room, and the other half was on his bed with Jared's cock down his throat. He was, to understate the matter, a bit torn.

"I'm going to kill you," Jared said under his breath. "Fair warning."

"You're real cute when you're riled, Jared. Anyone ever tell you that?" Jensen grinned at the air hostess as they boarded the plane. "Good morning, gorgeous. My day just got a whole lot prettier."

"Ah ... good morning," she replied, blinking in surprise. "May I see your boarding passes please?"

Jensen handed them over, chatting all the while about the weather and how beautiful it was, but not as beautiful as some things he could mention, smiling all the while. The hostess looked a bit dazed as she checked their seats and directed them down the aisle toward the back of first class, staring after Jensen in bemusement. Jared elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Stop flirting," he said flatly. Jensen looked at him and saw his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"S'a matter, man? You jealous?" He grinned.

"Yeah."

Jared said it quietly, but Jensen heard. He looked at him again, seeing his face, recognising the seriousness on it. Shooting a look around – first class was empty this morning, thank God – he pulled him into the niche that contained their seats.

"Say that again."

Jared ran a hand over his face and sighed.

"I don't want you flirtin' with her." He stared Jensen down. "I don't like it. And I know it's stupid and it's not fair, but I don't give a damn."

Jensen held his gaze, reading the honesty there. He could pull the Sandy card right now if he wanted – but he liked it, that jealousy he read loud and clear in Jared's voice. He hadn't meant anything with the hostess anyway. He'd seen the ring on her finger. He was just ... happy.

"Okay." He shrugged.

"Okay?" Jared repeated.

"Yeah. Okay." He stood up to store his bag in the overhead compartment, then noticed Jared still staring. "What?"

"... Nothing." Jared cleared his throat. "Here, put mine up too, would you?"

They sat quietly waiting for takeoff, Jared in the window seat. Jensen blessed Eric again for the extra leg room; hell, if he wanted to he could stretch right out and grab that nap that he'd been avoiding since ten-thirty. But sleeping would mean losing this time alone with Jared, and losing the fuzzy-but-pleasant dreamy haze he had going, so he flagged down a helpful member of the cabin crew and asked for coffee and blankets. If he wasn't going to sleep, he was at least going to snuggle.

You are such a girl, he told himself.

When the coffee came, along with two thick cashmere blankets, Jared all but snatched at them and that made Jensen grin. Okay, so maybe he was a girl, but Jared was, like, _five_.

"Where is everyone, man?" he asked, taking a sip of coffee – and then forgetting the question and paying serious attention, because this had to be the best coffee he'd ever had, anywhere, ever. "Oh my God, that's so good. Mm."

"Dunno," Jared said. "I guess if you can afford to fly to LA first class, you can afford to do it after sunup."

He clutched his coffee but wasn't drinking, his eyes fixed on Jensen. For his part, Jensen was busy inhaling the steam from his cup, savouring each mouthful from sip to swallow. It was really, _really_ good coffee. Smooth and strong, with an underlying hint of chocolate/hazelnut, no bitterness, and ... yeah. Great coffee. He could almost feel the caffeine seeping into his system, it was that fine. Appreciative noises escaped him as he drank, and Jensen was so wrapped up in the experience he didn't notice anything until Jared abruptly took his cup away and banged them both down on his tray table.

"Hey, I wasn't fini—" Jensen started, but all he said after that was 'oof!' because Jared grabbed him and yanked him down until they were hidden from view. Then he leaned over and held Jensen's face and kissed him until he couldn't breathe, let alone protest, chasing every hint of flavour until there was nothing to taste but the two of them. When Jared let him go it took him a second to remember where they were. God, that _mouth_...

"Don't flirt with the coffee, either," Jared said, and handed it back to him.

Jensen couldn't begin to think of a response to that. He just shut up and drank, meek and mild as a schoolmarm. His mind was wiped clear of everything but Jared. He gazed without focus at the seat in front, then sat up straight.

"Please tell me you remembered my contacts."

"Relax," Jared said. "Contacts, cleaning solution, black candles, dead rooster – it's all in there. God knows you'd forget, the state you're in." He put his hand on Jensen's chest and rubbed. "Get some sleep, huh?"

"Nope. Sleep'd make me stupid now – oh, don't _even_ ," he warned as Jared opened his mouth to reply. "Be nice or I won't snuggle with you."

" _Snuggle_?" Jared's voice cracked. "Jensen—"

"Shut up and give me a blanket." Jensen leaned over him to reach them, shaking one out and draping it over himself. Then he raised the armrest and shifted until his upper body leaned against Jared, pulling his right arm down around his waist beneath the blanket. He sighed in contentment and leaned his head back against Jared's shoulder.

"What are you doing? This is too obvious, man."

"No, it isn't. Or it won't be, if you get with the program." Jensen nudged his ribs. "Get the other blanket."

Jared muttered something under his breath, but he put the other blanket over himself. Jensen bunched up the overlapping material where the armrest should be, making sure the raised arm was hidden behind his body as much as possible.

"See? No problem," he said. "Now shut up and enjoy the situation."

Jared subsided, and Jensen was drifting into a half-doze despite himself when his stomach rumbled. Ominously.

"Oh, food," he sighed, suddenly ravenous. "When's the last time we ate?"

"Uh." Jared frowned. "Around eleven, I think. Yeah – that crappy pizza, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. That shit was awful." Jensen grinned. "Still. Even bad pizza's still pizza. Just like—"

"Don't." Jared's jaw was clenched. "Please. Just don't."

Jensen might've pushed his luck, but he never got the chance. The plane lurched into motion, and all mindfucking was forgotten as they braced for takeoff. Jared wasn't the best flier; he was mostly all right, but takeoffs and landings got to him. Jensen fished around under the blankets until he found Jared's hand and held it, rubbing his thumb back and forth over smooth skin.

"Jensen. I'm not a kid, you know," Jared said, but he didn't move his hand. Jensen just squeezed it, because even though he was in a weird, wired-up mood he wasn't an asshole. He felt ridiculously pleased when Jared squeezed back.

"Hey." He waited till Jared turned to look at him, just before the plane's wheels left the ground. "Wanna join the Mile High Club?"

If the openmouthed astonishment on Jared's face was anything to go by, he wasn't exactly freaking out about the takeoff anymore. Jensen grinned. Mission accomplished. He settled back in his seat and indulged in a full-body stretch. Man, he felt ... surprisingly okay, all things considered. Though he'd kill for a steak and toast and maybe some hash browns and more of that awesome coffee ...

Jared's hand freed itself from his grasp with a wrench. Jensen was about to remark on it when he felt that hand snake its way under the blankets and across to his lap, working on his jeans, freeing belt and button and zipper in what seemed like an unfairly short amount of time. He was still playing catch-up in his head when Jared pushed his hand – his huge, warm hand – right down under his boxers and started stroking his cock. Hard. Fast. Demanding a reaction, demanding everything, and it took Jensen about two seconds to comply, and that was only because he was so worn out.

He'd thought he was done, but Jared's hand had magical powers or something (maybe it was the Second Coming, he thought hysterically, and that was _way_ funnier than it should be, oh, he was going to hell for sure) and here he was, fully loaded and ready to go, only now Jared was taking his time, the clever fucker. He'd slowed right down now that Jensen was in the game, feathering his fingers up and down, squeezing when and where Jensen least expected it, rubbing his thumb over the head and scraping his nails delicately down the underside, making Jensen writhe and fight the urge to yell his damn fool head off. He stuffed a corner of the blanket in his mouth and bit down on it, but he didn't make a move to stop Jared, because he wasn't _completely_ stupid, thank you very much. He had no idea if this actually counted as Mile High membership, because they weren't up that high just yet, but he wasn't going to stop to ask. Instead he gripped his armrest on one side and Jared's thigh on the other and tried to stay _quiet_.

Jared's strokes began to speed up, the pressure changing, moving to different spots as he found out what Jensen liked. Rough along the shaft, air-light over the head, strong pressure all over and then just stroke-stroke-stroke until he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't do anything but jerk his hips in tiny desperate movements and whimper into his blanketed fist and come until he saw shooting stars behind his eyelids, white fire and supernovas burning him up from the inside. Tremors chased up his spine and down his arms, leaving him boneless and so relaxed he wasn't sure he was still breathing.

Jared drew his hand out and licked it clean; Jensen was never a huge shooter on his second go-round, so there wasn't much. Jared seemed not to care, though. He licked his palm over and over until Jensen was hypnotised by the movement.

"Hey." He forced his voice to work even though it sounded like he'd been eating gravel. "Think we can get some breakfast?"

Jared at him over his hand, his eyes lazy and glinting. He curled his tongue between two fingers, licking at a last single pearly drop.

"Let's find out," was all he said, and pressed the call button. Jensen nodded dumbly, transfixed by that tongue, those eyes, not even noticing when a crewman came over to see what they needed.

"Hey, there," Jared said, all charm. "What're our chances of scoring some breakfast? We're growing boys, here." He smiled at the guy. "Look on it as a challenge."

The poor guy nearly wilted under the power of the Padalecki dimples. "I'll, uh, see what I can do," he stammered, and backed away. Jensen rolled his eyes and ignored Jared's triumphant smirk.

"Whatever, dude. As long as we eat."

"Now you're jealous because I'm selling my soul for bacon and eggs?" Jared pouted. Jensen thumped his shoulder and then leaned back against him, feeling relaxed and edgy at the same time. In control, sort of. He'd be fine if he could hang on to this mood, keep it light, and for God's sake not let slip the fact that he wanted Jared's ass.

Breakfast, when it arrived, was enough to make them both weak at the knees. Bacon and eggs and toast and muffins, and more coffee, although Jensen was careful this time to just drink the stuff, noticing Jared's narrow-eyed stare. He hadn't cornered the market on sleep deprivation, apparently. Honestly – jealous of _coffee_?

They ate like starving ranch hands, all but licking their plates clean. When he was done Jensen pushed his plate away and sighed, feeling pretty good, all things considered. Sex, coffee and food could work miracles. He was still dog-tired, but otherwise there wasn't much wrong in Jensenland.

"Oh, crap," he said, remembering something. "Oh, man. _Shit_."

"What?" Jared, now half-asleep, looked over in alarm. "Whas'matter?"

"The party." Jensen scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I forgot about the ever-lovin' _party_. Tonight, after the thing," he clarified when Jared looked confused. "Remember? You said you'd go."

Jared frowned, concentrating. Jensen watched his brow smooth out as recollection came to him. His face fell about a mile.

"Well, hell," he said, his tone disappointed it made Jensen feel perversely better.

He shouldn't moan about going – it was a birthday party, of sorts – but after the events of the past few hours, he _really_ wasn't in the mood. All he wanted to do was get through the day and then faceplant on the nearest bed with Jared for a blanket. That plan was all shot to hell, he realised, and had been before he'd made it. Sandy was waiting for Jared in LA, and even if she did have two other guys on her string, Jared was the one she was reeling in this weekend. Which left Jensen alone in a crowd of well-wishers, alone in a hotel room ... just plain alone.

It didn't seem fair, to have denied himself for so long and then not have the time to enjoy it when Jared fell right into his lap. He wanted Jared to himself for a while. It was his _birthday_ , for crying out loud.

"Jensen. Yo, J. Cut it out." Jared nudged his arm.

"What?"

"You look like a kid with coal in his stocking on Christmas," Jared said, grinning at him. "Look, it's not that bad. We'll do the panel, show up at this shindig of yours for a couple hours, then we'll sneak back to the hotel and – whatever."

"'Whatever'?" Jensen repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jared blushed. Bright red. Brighter than anything Jensen had ever seen, including himself at his most embarrassed.

"Yeah." Jared cleared his throat, the flush moving down his throat, but his eyes were steady on Jensen's. "Whatever."

"What'll you tell Sandy?"

Jensen didn't really care – he was still stuck on the idea of 'whatever' and holy cow, did Jared _mean_ it when he said, God, I want to fuck you? – but he had to conceal the fact that he was about to die of pure want, thirty thousand feet somewhere over upstate Washington.

"The truth," Jared said with a shrug. "We don't lie, man. I'm guessing she's not gonna be surprised."

"Yeah, but she hasn't seen you in weeks," Jensen argued, wondering why the hell he was even talking when he already had what he wanted.

Jared leaned over and put a finger on his lips. "She'll get over it," he said. "It's not like we're fixin' to play house, man. It'll be fine. A'right?"

Jensen parted his lips and sucked Jared's finger into his mouth. He kept it there for a minute, swirling his tongue around, dragging his teeth over it and biting, sucking lightly and then with more pressure when Jared's eyes started to glaze over. When he let it go, he figured that if Sandy walked past right now Jared wouldn't even blink at her. He looked at Jared over the top of his glasses and smiled slowly.

"Whatever."

Jared's hand was trembling when he pulled away.

"You're so fucking _hot_ ," he whispered, nearly a moan. "It's not fair, man. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Jensen showed his own shaking hands. "Day one, man," he said. "Since day. Fucking. One."

" _Christ_ , Jensen." Jared looked away from him and swallowed, clenching his hands together.

"Welcome to my world, bro," Jensen said, and suddenly it was ludicrous, all of it, the months of denial and avoidance and the oh-my-god angst, his determination to stay on edge and alert so he wouldn't slip up, even the way they were right now, practically vibrating with desire and unable to do anything about it. It was _stupid_. God, this felt like the easiest thing he'd ever done. What a waste of perfectly good emoting. He stifled a snort, not wanting Jared to take it the wrong way, but once he'd started he couldn't stop, which was the story of his fucking life.

Jared looked at him like he was insane (which he probably was by now), but a minute later he was quietly dissolving into the giggles he'd never admit to on set. Jensen fell back into his seat and let himself shake, let all the high emotion drain out of him in stages of mirth until he felt wrung out, loose and entirely at peace. Horny, for sure, but that was okay. Jared wasn't going anywhere he couldn't follow.

"We ought to be locked up, y'know," he said lazily, linking their fingers under the blanket. "For our own protection."

"S'long as it's a double cell, I got no problem with that," Jared drawled. "In the meantime – the hotel better have a decent size bed, or by God there will be trouble."

Jensen closed his eyes and smiled. Maybe he'd sleep a little after all.

END


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timestamp: after Jensen's birthday party.

It was a really, really long day.

Jensen was ready to call it good before they even got to the party, but he couldn't bring himself to ditch the thing entirely, even if he was dead on his feet. It might be after seven-thirty, meaning he'd officially been up for thirty-six hours, and he might be dying to collapse in a wreck on the nearest horizontal surface, but it was a party, damn it. For _him_. Surely he could manage another couple of hours before he passed out. He was young. He had stamina.

Thinking of stamina made him think of Jared, with a guilty-pleasurable twist in his gut. They'd been pretty much inseparable all day, communicating volumes via eye contact and body language until Jensen was humming with the need to get Jared alone somewhere and _do things_ to him. The looks they'd been trading, the accidental-on-purpose touches, and Jared's insane kissy-face during the main panel had given him a million ideas, and the knowledge that he couldn't act on any of them yet was making him feel like a tuning fork. An especially horny one.

He was kind of sorry he'd sent Jared off to see Sandy now. But it was a weird enough situation without Jensen feeling like he'd stolen her boyfriend, even if it was only for the weekend, so he'd told Jared to take her some flowers or something.

"She's not going to care, Jensen," Jared insisted.

"No, but I do," Jensen said, and that was that. Jared had squeezed his shoulder and left, and now it was nearly an hour later and Jensen was on his way to the party, fretting and downing Red Bull like it was going out of style. His pulse rate was through the roof, but only half of that was the caffeine. This was the last hurdle before he could get Jared all to himself for an entire weekend. And as hurdles went ... well, there were worse things to suffer through than a birthday party. Even one organised by Chris.

As it turned out, he shouldn't have worried. By the time he got to the club Chris had rented, after fighting with LA Friday night traffic and his own jittery nerves, almost everyone was half toasted anyway. He could've walked in wearing a grass skirt and a coconut bra and nobody would've noticed anything amiss.

"Jen!" Chris had the annoying ability to project a drawl all the way across a crowded room, so he never appeared to be yelling. "'Bout time you got here, grandpa."

"Screw you, Kane," Jensen greeted him, snagging a beer from a row of Coronas atop the bar. Chris was lounging in a booth on the far wall, booted feet kicked up onto the other seat under the table. Jensen tapped their bottles together in a toast and shouldered up against Chris's side of the booth.

"Where's your boy?" Chris asked with a knowing look.

"Gone to see his girl." Jensen shrugged at Chris's snort. "I made him. 'S the right thing to do."

"Aw, Jen. Your mama brought you up proper." Chris ducked easily under Jensen's half-hearted swat. "No, I think that's sweet, really."

"Shut up," Jensen said, and drank his beer while pretending he wasn't watching the doorway waiting for Jared to show.

It wasn't that he was _worried_ , exactly. Jared was going to show. He'd said he would, so he would. Jensen was just a little concerned that Jared might not show up alone. And that would put a serious cramp in his faceplant-with-Jared-as-blanket plans. The bed would be crowded enough without trying to fit Sandy in. Plus, she was kind of small. He wouldn't want to lose her or roll over on her or something. Jared would probably get mad.

"Miss me?" Jared said in his ear, and Jensen nearly spilled his beer all over Chris's head. He whipped around and stared in confusion at all six-four of punch-drunk Padalecki grinning down at him.

"How did you do that?" he demanded.

"Do what?" Jared snagged his beer and gulped half of it down in two swallows, then handed it back.

"... never mind," Jensen said, realising just in time he was going to say, 'Get from the door to here without me seeing you', which sounded completely pathetic and also stalkerish, now that he thought about it, and maybe he really ought to shut up and have another beer now.

He tipped the beer bottle up to his mouth and drained it, feeling the alcohol seep into his system. One beer—half a beer, really, thanks to Jared—wasn't much, but after nearly two full days without sleep it was going straight to his head. He felt just the slightest bit lightheaded when he brought the empty bottle back down.

He felt a hell of a lot more lightheaded when he saw the way Jared was looking at him.

"Hey, Chris?" Jared didn't look away from Jensen, not even to blink. "This is a great party, man."

"It is." Chris surveyed the intoxicated crowd with a nod, most of whom didn't realise Jensen was even there. "I got a gift for organisation."

"You do. This is awesome." Jared took the empty bottle from Jensen's nervless fingers and set it on the table. "Don't take this the wrong way, dude, but me and Jen are leaving now."

Chris aimed an amused look at them, eyebrow raised. "Colour me shocked." He pointed a finger-pistol at Jensen (and even _that_ looked cool, damn the short little fucker anyway). "Y'all be good, now," he drawled.

"Count on it," Jared drawled right back, and slung a familiar arm around Jensen's neck. Jensen refused to admit just how completely fucking awesomely horny that made him, but from the look on Chris's face he didn't have to.

"Yeah, um. Bye, Chris. Thanks for the party," Jensen said hastily, and started plowing through the crowd with Jared practically breathing down his neck. He was an _asshole_. All these people were here to celebrate his birthday, Chris had put in all this effort, and he was deserting everyone for the chance to bone Jared Padalecki on a king-size hotel bed.

... well, when he put it that way, it was completely understandable, right?

The cab ride was short and interminable. Jared sat at least two feet away on the other side of the car, not touching him, and looking absolutely _perfect_ in jeans and his forty-sixth pink shirt of the year. He'd even put on proper shoes. Jensen needed them to be in a room behind a locked door, right now, so he could take all of it off and lick Jared from collarbone to cock.

"Stop it," Jared muttered. Jensen blinked and realised he was staring, lips parted, and oh God was he actually _mouth-breathing_? He looked away hurriedly, but the damage was done; Jared began to shift around on the seat next to him, and Jensen knew why, and that made him shift as well, and by the time they arrived at their hotel they were squirming like ten-year-olds without PSPs on a road trip.

They were insane, Jensen thought as he escaped from the cab to stab the elevator button seventeen times in ten seconds, leaving Jared to pay. They were going to get caught, and they were going to be in unbelievably huge trouble, and he really didn't give a flying fuck as long as none of that happened until at least Monday.

"C'mon, hurry up, Jesus—aha!" he crowed when the elevator doors dinged open, looking around for Jared, who was all but running across the foyer toward him. Jensen stepped in and held the doors until Jared slid in beside him, rebounding off the far wall in his enthusiasm.

"Security cameras?" Jared asked, when Jensen didn't immediately start climbing him like a tree.

"Probably." Jensen didn't look over. "Better not risk it."

" _Dude._ I've been dying to get my hands on you since ... well, since the last time I had my hands on you."

"You can last a few more seconds," Jensen said, lust and glee and exhaustion warring for dominance inside him. "And if you can't, you're not gonna be any use to me anyway."

Jared's spluttering laughter followed Jensen out of the elevator and down the hall to his room, where he spent an agonising thirty seconds trying to get the key card to work. When the door finally clicked open Jared shoved him through it, shut the door behind him and leaned back against it with a smile that raised goosebumps all along Jensen's neck.

"Can't last more than a few seconds, huh," Jared said, cocking an eyebrow. "I think I oughta be offended."

"I said 'if'!" Jensen protested, backing toward the bed as Jared began to stalk him across the room. "There was definitely an 'if' in there."

"Too late," Jared said, somehow right in front of him even though Jensen swore there'd been five feet between them a second ago. "Prepare to be sacrificed on the altar of my manhood."

"Oh, please don't make me," Jensen deadpanned, and Jared laughed and threw him on the bed.

They didn't _quite_ break the bed, but housekeeping found some suspicious boot-shaped marks on the wall and the spa jets always seemed sort of ... _traumatised_ , afterward.


End file.
